The Aftermath
by joannacamilley
Summary: Sequel to Fades to Black. What happens after Nate kills himself? How does it affect the people he loves?
1. Jack Tucker

**Here's a sequel to Fades to Black. It's pretty sad. This is going to be from different people's point of view. This one is Nate's dad. Not much else to say in the beginning...so here! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Too late at night to think of something witty, so I'm gonna say it clearly. I. DON'T. OWN. CAMP. ROCK. Got it?**

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I glance at my wife. She looks uncomfortable, as she had the entire dinner. "I'm sure Nate's fine, Marie," I try to assure her, but the mention of Nate's name makes her tremble.

She looks up at me with troubled eyes. "I don't know, I just can't shake this feeling…" She looks down at the ground. "Mitchie seemed pretty upset when she left. Something happened between them. You know Nate's been depressed lately. This might…have been it."

My eyes widen considerably. "Don't say that," I almost growl at her. She looks up at me, her eyes in denial, but her head knew better. "He's a strong kid, he'll just shake it off," I say, sure of myself.

Marie puts her hand on my arm. "I would feel so much better if you take me home…now." She adds the last part when I raise my eyebrow. I sigh again.

"When we get home, you'll see we skipped out on free dessert for nothing," I complain as I try to get the attention of our waiter.

Marie's sniffle grabs my attention. She looks like she's on the brink of crying. "Please… I just need to make sure," she says desperately. I offer an sympathetic smile as I pay the bill.

We walk to the car, but I mostly support her weight. I don't mean to seem like I don't care about Nate, I do, he's my only kid and all, but I think Marie is taking it to an extreme. As I drive home, I suddenly feel a change. I'm not sure how to describe it. It's like…you know something's gone wrong. It's like intuition, something supernatural. Most of all, it's scary.

I shiver as the feeling passes, leaving me in the aftermath. I'm starting to get worried too. I look at Marie just to see she's looking back at me, the same look in her eyes. She felt it too. I suddenly feel the urge to get home faster. I shift into a higher gear, speeding down the highway. Luckily there are no cops nearby.

I pull into the driveway and take a good look at our house. We've lived here for almost 20 years but I've never really _looked_ at it before now. It looks sinister, almost mocking me in a sick way. I get this feeling again (intuition?) making me want to just turn around and drive away, far away. I try to shake the feelings as I help Marie out of the car. She's still shaking.

"Nate?" I call as I open the door. No one answers. I shrug off my coat and take Marie's, putting them away. "How about you go lie down and I talk to Nate?" I suggest to her.

She unsteadily nods her head, beginning the climb upstairs. I watch her get to the top and walk to our room at the end of the hall. My eyes stop moving as she passes Nate's room. I stare at his door, feeling a paranormal attraction to it. I sigh as I begin to head to his room.

"God, this house is haunted…" I mutter as I get to the top. When I look up, I see Marie standing in front of me. I gasp, but she doesn't notice. She's staring at the door also, but she seems to be scooting away from it.

"I'm going to make some tea, want any?" she asks me.

I shake my head. Why is everything so weird in this house now? The atmosphere is completely wrong. It feels like a ghostly house. "I'm good, I'm just going to talk to Nate."

She nods and walks downstairs. I take a deep breath and walk up to his door. My hair is on end and I don't even know why. What's different about this time than every other time I've gone to his room? The answer is nothing. I'm just going to talk to him about his 'depression' as his mother puts it and ask about Mitchie. I put my hand on the doorknob and try to turn it, but it won't move. I try jiggling it, but nothing happens.

"Damn it, Nate. Open this door!" I yell at him from outside. I shake to doorknob some more but nothing happens.

"Jack, where's our big knife?" Marie asks from downstairs.

"I don't know, what do you need it for?" I grunt, still trying to open the door.

"The drawer's open, so I looked in and it's not there," she explains.

Dread washes over me. He wouldn't-would he?

"Oh God," I murmur, stopping my actions. My heart is racing in my chest. "Nate, open up NOW!" I scream at him, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I bang on the door, hoping, praying he will answer.

"Jack, what's wrong?" Marie asks. I hear her coming upstairs.

I finally have enough and start trying to kick down the door. On the third try, it works, surprisingly. I cautiously look inside. It is pitch black, the blinds closed and the lights off. I step inside and get hit with a horrible smell. It smelled like rusty metal and salt. Also something else you wouldn't find naturally. I didn't really care though. I know that smell. You get accustomed to it as a paramedic.

I choke back a sob as I see his outline on the bed. From the light flooding in from the hall, I see he's tucked in, like he's sleeping. The only thing out of place is the big knife laying on the sheets. Oh, don't forget the dark color seeping through his light sheets.

My heart stops. I run over to him, my professional side taking effect. I grab his left arm and see two deep gashes in the wrist. It breaks my heart that we didn't stop him from getting so depressed, from cutting himself. I grab his other arm and press down on his too-pale wrist, looking for a pulse. There wasn't any.

I look up at his face, my dead son's face. Some moisture is dripping onto it, and I look down to see that it's my tears. Well, what do you expect.

What would you do when you're holding your dead son in your arms?

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**Not the best ending in the world, but it's the best I can come up with now. The next chapter I plan to be his mom's. Some of it might overlap, but that's just the way I do it. I'm so stupid because of course I start another story when I'm trying to work on two others, but maybe more people will read the others? Please? Lol, there will probably be 4 chapters in all, Jack, Marie, Shane, and Mitchie. **

**I just realized I don't like my writing style. :( Oh well, gotta work on that.**

**Review! Tell me what you thought!**


	2. Marie Tucker

**Sorry if that the last chapter sucked. I know Jack seemed 'insensitive' as my friend put it, and it's true. I highly doubt I would be thinking some of the things Jack was. But I was in a depressed/mad mood, and I was tired as I said in the disclaimer. I was also procrastinating, but trying to procrastinate faster because I had a lot of homework. Hopefully this one is better. So, yeah, that's all I haev to say for now. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: We would be living in a very messed-up world if this was on a Disney show, so no, I do not own Camp Rock. Or Garnier for that matter. (You'll find out soon)**

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"Oh God," I hear my husband murmur. Suddenly, he's screaming, "Nate, open up NOW!" I hear him banging on the door, trying to knock it down. That can't be good.

"Jack, what's wrong?" I ask him worriedly as I head upstairs. _Please don't let it be Nate, my son, my baby._

A loud cracking sound and a thump indicates that Jack succeeded in breaking open the door. Why would Nate lock it? We taught him from a young age that locking a door is unacceptable in this house. Hopefully, this doesn't coincide with my…fears from earlier. Please, no.

My heart literally breaks as I hear Jack choke back a sob. That can only mean one thing.

He's gone.

I stumble as my legs begin to fail me. I reach out for the wall, but I miss. I fall to the ground in a heap, shaking with the sobs that have overcome my body.

He's gone. Nate's gone forever.

My sobs get louder and more powerful with the more time I have for the 'news' to sink in.

He's really gone.

I think back to all the good times Jack and I had with Nate. First day of school, all his birthday parties, the trips to the city. All of it gone.

I squeeze my eyes close and just rock back and forth. This can't be happening. This _cannot_ be happening. It's just a dream. A sick, twisted nightmare.

I hear Jack silently crying in Nate's room…Nate's old room. I choke up as I think about how Nate will never sleep in there again, never run upstairs and slam his door when he's mad at us. I'd rather he be mad at us forever than to have him leave us like this.

But he's gone.

I have a pounding headache from all my crying, but the pain is nothing compared to what my heart is feeling. I think someone annihilated it, blew it up into smithereens. Not one piece is left.

I lay there for a while more, until my tears dry up. Then I start dry crying and heaving without actually throwing up. Now my whole body is in pain, but times it by infinity and you'll get the pain from the hole in my chest Nate left.

I decide to get up and see Nate, possibly for the last time. I crawl up to the wall so that I'll have support and basically climb up it because I don't have enough strength myself. I lean on the wall as I head down to Nate's room. Then I remember again.

He's gone.

I take in deep breaths so that I don't start hyperventilating and stop for a moment, closing my eyes. _It's going to be okay_, I think in my head. I know it's a lie. It's never going to be okay now. Not now that Nate's gone.

He's gone.

I gather my strength and reach Nate's doorway. The door is breaking off its hinges so I just walk through. I almost faint at the sight I see.

Jack was holding Nate's ghastly pale body close to his own, rocking back and forth. I look down Nate's body and see what he did. He slit his wrists. My poor baby slit his wrists.

And now he's gone.

Why couldn't we have noticed this before! We're terrible parents for letting our only child suffer so miserably in silence.

I must have made some noise because Jack looks up at me, his eyes bloodshot. I'm sure mine look the same. I walk up to the bed cautiously, looking at Nate's peaceful body laying on his father's lap. I sit down next to Jack and start to stroke Nate's hair. It's still soft from my Garnier shampoo he liked to steal sometimes. I let out a broken laugh as I think about the funny things Nate use to do.

But now he's gone.

Jack looks up at me, swallowing harshly. "I'm go-gonna ca-all 911," he stutters, moving Nate's body as he gets up to get the phone. I pull Nate up to me and lean over his head, kissing his forehead. It's not cold, but it's not as warm as an alive human should be. That makes no sense though. I learned from Jack that a human loses 2°F after the first hour they're dead and 1° every hour after that…

Oh God, how can I think of stupid medical trivia when I'm holding my little Natey! Tears start flooding out of my eyes again; my tear ducts are in for a long couple of months. Probably years.

Jack comes back to the room but stands in the doorway, watching me holding our son. He starts breathing heavily so I look up to him. He seems angry.

"How could he do this to us?" Jack suddenly yells out. I flinch at his loud and accusing voice. "He knew how much it would hurt us, yet he does it anyways! He was too caught up in his own life to realize his actions would hurt everyone who loves him! Such a selfish bitch!"

I can only stare wide-eyed at Jack. "How could you say that," I whisper, my voice shaky. Jack looks me in the eyes and his expression changes from angry to heartbroken. "He's our only son and he was in so much pain, so much pain…" I sniffle and look back down at Nate. He seems peaceful, in a state of rest. "Maybe he's in a better place now…"

"Bullshit. He belongs with us," Jack whimpers, falling to his knees. He crawls over to us as I hear sirens coming up the street. "He belongs with us," he repeats.

But now he's gone.

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**Sad from a mother's point of view. I hope you liked it! **

**As for my other stories, I'm working on it! I outlined everything for Poor Unfortunate Souls, now I just have to type it all. For Don't Forget...it's getting there. I'll proabably update Don't Forget this weekend and Poor Unfortunate Souls next week. I just have so much to do. One of my teachers assigned me a 5 page essay. As a ninth grader. :( And we need the first paragraph to be a page long.**

**Well, I have to go since I got in trouble, lol, so please review! They might make me happy since I'm probably grounded now for not letting my dog out.**


	3. Shane Gray

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I got really sick and barely had time for homework, let alone typing my stories. This chapter is from Shane's POV and it's a lot longer than the others. I spent major procrastination time on this, lol. I like this chapter, for once. My friend helped me type it and she'd help me revise my sentences, so it should be good. I hope. Anyways, please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I could only wish to own Camp Rock. But then again, I doubt they would let a 14 year old own Camp Rock, don't you think?**

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"Mitchie, where are you…" I muttered, my leg bouncing up and down, showing my impatience. I had good reason to be impatient. Mitchie said she'd be here by 8 tops and it was now just about midnight. She said she had to talk to Nate about something real quick, then she'd zip over to my house. I lived about 5 houses down from Nate, so it wouldn't be that hard for her to just walk over when she's done. What if…what if her and Nate are…doing stuff…more than friends stuff…

No.

I know Mitchie and I know Nate. They would never intentionally cheat or help someone cheat. Maybe she had to go home…for something. Yeah, let's go with that.

I sigh and lie down on my bed, staring at my ceiling. I do this a lot. Time to think is very much valued to me. And boy, did I have a lot to think about.

As I said before, I know Nate. We've been best friends since preschool. Probably before then. We always had each other's backs and knew everything about each other. Too bad for Nate, I know him too well.

He's in love with Mitchie.

Any other guy would probably threaten him, or beat him up, but he's my best bud. I've known him much longer than I've known Mitchie. With Mitchie, I don't know if she's just for now, but Nate's going to be there for me forever.

But he loves my girlfriend.

I shake my head, trying to shake off the thoughts. Nate would never steal her from me. We made a pact in seventh grade, we weren't going to steal each other's girlfriends. Nate would never break it.

I think.

I groan and turn over to my side. Mitchie's right, I think too much. She's told me that on many occasions. But I can't help it.

My eyebrows pull together when I hear sirens from down the street. What the hell?

I get up and look out my window. It was dark out, but the sky was illuminated by a full moon. A full moon.

I shiver.

"What's going on?" I mutter under my breath, seeing the red and white lights coming down my street. I hope they were just passing through. But it's a dead end…

I run downstairs, to the front door to watch as the ambulance passes my house in a hurry. I crane my head as it goes one, two, three, four…five houses down.

Nate's house.

I freeze. My mind's working in overdrive. What could this mean? Either a) Nate prank-called 911, or b)someone is genuinely hurt. Oh God, if there was ever a time for Nate to be a stupid teenager, let it be now.

I see them park in his driveway and run into the house. By this time, I'm standing on my lawn, my heart racing. I'm steadily walking towards Nate's house, watching as the lights turn on. I see the paramedics inside, rushing upstairs. I'm four houses away now. They disappear from my view. Three houses.

Two houses.

Then, I see them carrying a white sheet-covered body outside.

A body.

My stomach lurches. My legs are shaking horribly but I keep walking. I'm next door now. Nate's parents stumble out of the house. The paramedics open up the back of the ambulance and wheel it in somberly. It. Nate.

He's…de-de…I can't even think it.

My wide eyes then turn to Nate's parents. They are standing to the side, holding onto each other for dear life. They look so shaken, depressed, scared.

Just like me.

I walk up to them, my steps shaky. The moment they see me, they open their arms for me to join in. We all hug, shaking, crying for Nate.

After a few minutes, someone comes up to us, breaking our hug apart. They inform us that they needed someone to come to the hospital with them. Mr. and Mrs. Tucker look at each other, then look at me.

"Shane, so-son," Mr. Tucker stutters when he says son. He just lost his only one. "We're both going to go, will you be okay alone?"

I can only nod, my throat too thick for any words to come through. They weakly smile at me (more like grimace, but I understand what they mean) and walk into the ambulance. Before they pull away, I swear I hear Mrs. Tucker wailing inside.

I gulp and look at Nate's house. The front door is wide open, almost begging me to come in. As I walk through the door, memories of me and Nate flying through it, pretending to be superheroes, or walking in, throwing our bags on the ground right after school bombard me. Never again will that happen.

I breathe in deep breaths before I look up to see the stairs. They curl around the wall, letting you off 90 degrees from the starting point. It was especially fun when you slid down them, having to turn and all that. But Nate can't enjoy that again…

Stop it. I can't think of that, I won't think of that. I walk upstairs slowly, one foot on each step. Once I'm upstairs, I look down the hall. Nate's door is broken open.

I gulp.

I walk towards his room, the house eerily quiet. The room is dark when I peak into it. I take a step inside and smell something horrible. Something you'd expect to smell if you were in a horror movie. If I were to guess what it was, I'd say…blood.

I shiver again.

I hesitantly turn on his lights. The room illuminates, showing me the horrific scene.

The blood. Oh god, the blood.

It was all over his sheets. I could barely distinguish the original color, it was all red. Deep red. Some of it was slowly dripping onto the floor.

"Holy shit," I whisper, frozen where I stood. What the hell did Nate do! My eyes look around his room, landing on the knife on his night stand.

I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting this all to be a dream. Wanting to go back to when Nate and I would just kid around. Back to any time Nate was with me. Actually, we haven't hung out lately.

And now we never will.

I start violently shaking as I realize my best friend is gone. He's gone. Never coming back.

Oh my God.

I grip his desk to keep me from falling. That's when I see it. Nate's journal.

I stare at it, contemplating on if I should read it or not. I don't know if I can handle seeing what he wrote. Once I read it, it'll be etched into my memory, and it's gonna drive me crazy. But…I need to see what he's been thinking these past few days…or weeks. I don't know how long this has been going on. All that I know is that I'm probably a cause.

Along with Mitchie.

I feel my self-esteem go down with each thought. I drove my friend to kill himself. I'm a murderer.

I quickly dispel that thought. Now is not the time to play the blame game. I take a breath and pick up his journal.

I open the first page. It's dated 2 years ago, when he first got it.

_Hey, so, this is my journal. Yep…So, my name's Nate, I'm 15, blah blah blah. My grandma got this for me for Christmas and she insisted that I start writing in it right now. She's staring at me, making sure she didn't waste her money. I could just write a bunch of shit, it's not like she can read this anyways. Blind old bat. Yeah…now she's glaring at me 'cause I don't know what to write. Yes, it's time for dinner. Well, I doubt I'll write to you again, unless she makes me write again after dinner. Oh, the joys of Christmas._

The next entry was dated a month later.

_Wow, I can't believe me, a dude, is actually writing in this 'diary'. Ha, as if I'd call it that. No, this is my journal, it sounds more manly. Well, as manly as a journal can be. My parents do call me sensitive…whatever the hell that means. So, what I really wanted to talk about was Mitchie. My sociology teacher said it's good to let your feelings out in a healthy way, so I'm just gonna write it out. You see, I really like Mitchie. I met her four years ago and got this huge crush on her. The only thing is she doesn't seem to like me, at least not in the way I like her. She's perfect though. Perfect for me._

I look through the pages, each one seeming to contain Mitchie's name. My heart sunk. He really did love her. As much as me? I don't know, but he did love her. I skip to the last page. It's dated today. I gulp and start reading.

_Mitchie came today. She broke my heart. No, that's not right. She ripped it out, shredded it, set it on fire and laughed in my face about it. At least that's what it feels like she did. She totally blew me off when I told her I loved her. When I said we belong together. She just said she had to go and left without a single glance. I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much._

_To anyone that's reading this, I'm sorry._

And that's it. I don't realize I'm crying until I see the drops falling onto the page. I close the book and carefully lay it on his desk. That was too much.

So I did cause his death.

How should I feel? I know I didn't literally kill him, but it feels like it. I shouldn't have asked Mitchie out, I knew Nate liked her. But he never made a move, so I thought it was just a silly crush.

What have I done?

I sit back in his chair and close my eyes, my thoughts running wild.

The next thing I know, sunlight is pouring through Nate's window. I suddenly wake, sitting up in the chair. Where am I? Then I remember.

I'm in Nate's house.

Nate's gone.

I feel a tug in my heart, but I ignore it. I get up and head to Nate's door. Before I go out, I take one last glance at his room.

The bed is still red.

I shudder and continue my way out of his house. I numbly walk to my house, going across our neighbor's lawns. I just want to get home now. Maybe everything will be okay when I get home.

Once I get inside, I go straight to my room. What do I do now? I stand for a few minutes in a daze. I still can't believe this is happening. I spot my cell phone and I reach out for it. I look through my contacts, stopping at Mitchie. Yeah, I'll give her a call. I almost press the call button when I look at the name under hers. Nate.

I start trembling but press call anyways. I have to tell her.

It rings a few times before she actually answers.

"Hey, honey," she almost yawns into the phone, trying to sound cheery. That means she just woke up. That just makes my job _so_ much easier.

"M-mitchie," I say, my voice thick with emotion. I can't stop thinking about how Nate's number was under Mitchie's. I'll never be able to call that number again…

"What's wrong, Shane?" Mitchie questions me, genuine concern in her voice. I have to say it.

"I-it's Nate. He's gone." I close my eyes and rub them, wanting all of this to go away.

"What? Oh, well, if you're looking for him, he's coming over-" What the hell is she talking about?

"No, Nate's dead." Wow, I can't believe how harsh that came out.

She's quiet for a moment. "N-no, h-he can't b-be d-dead," Mitchie stutters.

I sigh. "He committed suicide. Slit his wrists," I inform her, rubbing my face with my hand.

Mitchie doesn't answer me, but I can hear her labored breathing. According to what Nate's last entry said, she knew he loved her, but she blew him off. She must feel as guilty as I do.

Nate's dead…because of us.

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**I got the idea of Shane blaming himself from True Blood. The first season was playing this weekend and (sorry if I'm spoiling it) when Sookie's grandmother is killed, everyone blamed her. I thought how terrible it would be to be blamed for someone's death, and decided to add some of that in this chapter. However, it's gonna be a lot worse in the next one. ;)**

**I might only do one more chapter, I'll decide the next time I update. Another reason I might not update as much is because I'm also typing two other stories at the same time. They're called Poor Unfortunate Souls and Don't Forget. Check them out if you haven't already. :D**

**Speaking of stories to check out, if you didn't read the prequels to this, please do! I use direct quotes from them, like the phone conversation between Mitchie and Shane is exactally how I explained it in How to Save a Life. I had to go back to that story so I could get the words right.**

**Please review! ** **It only takes like 30 seconds, I don't really care what you say, just tell me if you liked it or not. Feedback is good!**

**PS: It's weird writing in present tense. I have to keep reminding myself it's 'I say' instead of 'I said' or something ot the like.**


	4. Mitchie Torres

**Yay! I updated! I meant to update last week, but I never got around to it. The beginning is a little bit different than the end of How to Save a Life, but it's okay, right? Also, the time frame of everything that's happening (I mean the stages of grief) are kinda shortened. I actually looked up the 7 stages of grief after I wrote this and I had every stage in the right order :D I think this chapter is pretty good, it's special in it's own way. It's not as long as the last one, but the last one was really long. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Camp Rock, I would be head over heels in joy because then I could personally teach each Jonas Brother exactally how I want each scene...Ohh, that sounds soo good! :D But I don't, so too bad for me.**

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_"No, Nate's dead."_

Nate…He's…gone. Not here. Forever lost.

Oh my God.

I continue to shake but my mind is frozen. I can't…think. My breathing gets harsher and harsher as time goes on.

"…Mitchie, I know…I know you saw N-nate last, and…and, I don't know where I'm going with this," Shane miserably rambles, nervously chuckling at the end. His words only make me feel worse.

I was the last one to see Nate.

I could have stopped him.

**I broke Nate's heart.**

**I caused his death.**

I let the phone fall from my grasp as I curl into a ball on my bed. My shaking never ceases but suddenly, my mind is unfrozen. I can see clearly now, everything I never saw before.

The looks of longing, the lingering hands on my arms, laughing along with me even when I wasn't trying to be funny. It all makes sense now.

How could I have been so stupid?

He…and I...I…

"I don't know what to do…" I whimper, squeezing my head in my hands. I want-no, I need all these thoughts to go away. Shock, pain, guilt, all of it. I just can't stop thinking about the last time I saw him. I didn't even look at him, I was too disgusted to even glance at him.

I missed my last chance to see him.

I squeeze my head harder as a few tears fall out of my eyes, which are shut tight. I start gasping for air as it becomes too much for me. Slowly, a new thought comes to my head.

It's all Nate's fucking fault.

I get up and go to my dresser, where a picture of Nate and me stands. I glare at him for a second before I pick it up and hurl it across the room. It shatters on impact.

"Nate! Why the fuck would you do that! Don't you know how much pain I'm in?! Don't you know that there are people here that actually care about you?! We could have helped you…I could have helped you…" my voice gets less coherent as sobs overtake my body. Now that all my steam has blown off, I'm left sobbing on the floor. I crawl to the corner of my room, having quite a hard time since my whole body was shaking worse than ever. Suddenly, I hiss and pull up my right hand. I had placed it on some of the shattered glass that had resulted from the broken picture and my hand was bleeding.

I freeze as I realize that this was the exact same method Nate used to end his life, granted that he cut his wrists. I bring my hand to my chest and cry over it, thinking more about Nate.

"I'm sorry…I shouldn't blame you…" I whisper, hoping Nate can hear me, wherever he is.

When I look back down at my hand, I see it's bleeding a bit more than I had thought earlier. My shirt is stained with some blood and more is coming out. I gloomily get up and head to the bathroom, intending to clean up my wound and get some band aids, maybe going to the hospital for stitches if need be. I get into the bathroom and look into the mirror. I look a mess. My hair is in every direction, my eyes are red and puffy, and my shirt has blood all on the front. I sigh and turn on the water, washing the blood off my hand. I open the medicine cabinet to get some band aids when I freeze. Something in there seems much more important than the band aids right now. It's something that can potentially help me, if I do it correctly.

Sleeping pills.

I pick up the bottle, examining it. Surprisingly, it's a prescription for me from 2 years ago. I had a little bout of insomnia and my doctor had prescribed them. Fixed it in no time, so I know they work. I just don't know how many to take-

I drop the bottle. What am I doing! I'm not seriously thinking about overdosing…am I? I gulp and look into the mirror. I look pitiful. If Nate can do it…why can't I?

I pick up the bottle again and open it. I shake out a handful, hoping it's enough. I get out a glass and fill it with water numbly. I can't think about what I'm doing because I might chicken out.

I need to be back with Nate.

With Shane long forgotten, I pop the pills in my mouth and take gulps of water, washing the pills down with it. Once the last pill is swallowed, I look into the mirror for the last time.

The last time.

Holy shit! What the fuck did I do?! My eyes widen as I realize what I just did. What's going to happened. What just happened.

I start hyperventilating as I hold onto the sink for dear life. I don't know how long it takes for them to kick in, but I know I don't have that long to live.

"Oh, God. Nate, please help me. Someone, anyone! I don't want to die…" I beg and plead on my knees. To an outsider, I would look crazy, crying and talking to an empty room.

Slowly, I start to feel tired. I start to panic, my senses on high alert while also dulling from the medication. The edges of my vision are getting blurry and I don't have as much energy as before. I get up and run to my room, spotting my phone on my bed. I dive onto it and dial Shane's number.

"Hello? Mitchie, are you okay?" Shane answers after a few rings.

"No…I…then…pills…I…can't…" I sob into the phone, not making any sense. The blurriness starts spreading further into my vision.

"Wait, wait. Mitchie, did you say pills?" Shane urgently asks me.

I wheeze into the phone. "Shane…I'm so…sorry..." I say before my eyelids involuntarily close, feeling way to heavy to keep up. My eyesight was long gone and I just feel like giving in to the darkness that's engulfing me.

"Mitchie, I'll be right there, just hold on tight," Shane quickly says before hanging up.

I try to stand up, try to fight the sleep that's taking over, but I can't. I'm too weak.

Just like I was too weak to take the fact that Nate loved me.

I let out one last sob before uttering what I assume to be my last words. "Nate…I…love you too…" I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper as sleep invades my mind and body.

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**Up next: the funeral. But who's, you may ask. Well, that's for me to know and for you to find out in a little bit! By the way, the next chapter is the last one. It's going to give you guys some closure.**

**If you want to know what's going on with my stories and why I may or may not be updating quickly, check my profile. I have info under ****STORY STATUSES. I'm doing 4 stories at once now, since I took on a High School Musical story so I might update a bit slower. Then again, there's only one more chapter left, so I'll probably just quickly type it up next week.**

**Talking about the future, I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to update. I just got my report card and *gasp* I have a C. Granted, the grade was a 79.4, which I think is totally unfair. It's also a gifted honors class, which is about twice as hard as an honors class, which is hard enough as is. Also, it's social studies, which is not one of my best subjects. Luckily, it's just the first marking period and I'm a freshman, I just need to study more. I'm currently hiding my report card because if I don't, my dad would probably take my computer away, no lie. I'm going to hide it until Monday. By then, I hope to have updated 2 of my other stories.**

**So, assuming I don't get grounded or my computer taken away from me, I hope to update next week!**

**Hmm, I think that's all I have to say.**

**PS: Happy Friday the 13th! Although it was yesterday. Oh well, I tried.**

**PPS: Please review! Tell me what you think will happen! Remember, Shane's on his way to her house!**


	5. Nate Tucker

**Woo! The last chapter! Finally! It's actually like midnight where I am and I have school tomorrow, so I typed it pretty fast. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed. It's sad, but since it's Nate's POV, it has some sarcasm too. At the end, I have a book recommendation that you would really enjoy! So please, start reading!**

**Disclaimer: I actually don't own Camp Rock. However, this story would make a great inspirational story, just not for Disney.**

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It's a bright, clear day. The sun is shining and the only clouds visible in the brilliant blue sky are the pretty white fluffy ones. You know, the kind you use to pretend were different animals or shapes when you were a kid. They lightly breeze by, as happy as a cloud can be, unaware of the depressing scene unfolding below. For at that moment, the clouds are floating above a cemetery where a funeral is taking place.

My funeral.

They carry my body in a mahogany casket, which I know to have white cushions inside. Mind you, I would have picked another wood, maybe even metal, which would be much more durable underground, but I wasn't around to make the decision. I never had the conversation of what casket I'd like with my parents. They never thought I'd die before them. _I_ never thought I'd die before them. What I did, it was like an impulse, something that could have been avoided if I stopped and thought about it. I would have realized how stupid it is to kill yourself. It doesn't help anything, it just causes more pain.

From where I am, wherever it is, I have witnessed what has happened these pass couple of days. I've seen people blame me for a while, then blame themselves that they couldn't help me. They don't understand, though. I didn't want help. I just wanted to drown in my misery, to make myself seem like a victim for just a little bit longer.

But I waited too long.

I saw my parents find my body, something I was dreading. I saw Shane read my diary in despair. Most heartbreakingly, I saw Mitchie take the sleeping pills. I saw her freak out then fall asleep. I saw Shane rush in with paramedics. I saw it all.

They were almost too late, though. They're lucky I have a trick up my sleeve (metaphorically, of course, I don't even think I have a body anymore, just my thoughts.)

I kept her alive, kept her heart from stopping completely until they had pumped her stomach and all the other doctorly stuff they do. She was on the line, about to fall over the edge and join me forever, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I even saw her for a moment when they lost her in the ambulance.

'Mitchie,' I…think? I don't have lips, so I didn't say it.

'Nate?' Her thoughts are fused with confusion, sadness, and ,strangely, happiness.

'Mitchie, it's not your time. Go back, you have your whole life ahead of you,' I advise her.

'But I want to stay with you,' she argues.

'Mitchie, I'm really sorry, but you can't be here. I won't let you throw your life away like I did. I regret it now and wish I could turn back time, but I can't. Please go back, for me.'

'Okay…I love you, Nate, you know that, right?' she says (thinks?) with remorse.

'I know, I've been watching over you. Stay safe, and…I'm sorry'

And with that, Mitchie was pulled back to earth, revived but still not out of trouble. I fought for her so hard, and it all paid off.

My casket is placed in front of rows of chairs. They open the lid, and there I am. My hair is combed, the curls styled perfectly. How I wish I knew how to do that when I was alive. I am wearing my favorite suit, gray with a light green dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows just how I like it. I got to give the mortician some props, I look pretty spiffy if I say so myself. Wow, did I just say spiffy? I've been dead for too long, it's rotting my brain. Sorry for my bad taste in jokes, just trying to lighten to mood at my funeral. How many people have you heard say that?

Everyone walks somberly to their seats. My parents, Shane, Mitchie, and our other friends Jason and Caitlyn sit in the front row. Though I saved her, Mitchie looks dead, her eyes sullen and the perpetual frown on her face. Shane has his arm around her, but not too tight because she actually broke up with him. He wasn't too angry, he actually thought it was for the better because he didn't want to live with the guilt of stealing his best bud's love.

The guy at the front starts talking, but I'm not listening. My ears (do I even have ears?) are tuned only to hear Mitchie. She lets out sighs every so often, but not out of boredom. On the contrary, she's trying not to break down. The man soon stops and both my parents go up. Usually, only one person is up there at a time, but my mom can't go anywhere without my father's support, so they both go up. My dad starts speaking, but I'm barely paying attention. I get the gist of it, though. I was a wonderful boy, the most respectful, intelligent young man they had ever known. I was meant to do great things, but my life was sadly interrupted.

The sad thing is, they don't even know why I did it. Shane never told anyone about my journal, not to protect himself from blame, but for my own privacy and for the sake of my parents. It's better to be in the dark than to know the truth, because the truth hurts.

They sit back down and Mitchie stands. I would sit up, if I had a body. She stands at the small podium there and looks into the crowd of people. All the people that loved and cared about me.

I was such an idiot.

"Nate was the most wonderful friend you could ask for," Mitchie starts. Her voice is quivering a bit, but she clears it quickly. "He always helped me up when I was down, and he was never selfish or self-centered. But there's one thing I need to say. One thing Nate was, was in love with me."

Gasps were heard among the people that knew that she was dating Shane.

"He told me, and I shot him down," she says numbly. "I wish I didn't, because now I realize I love him too." Her voice breaks and she looks at Shane. He looks slightly hurt, but he nods at her. "I tr-tried to end my life the day after he did. On the way to the hospital, they lost me for a second. In that second, I went somewhere, somewhere amazing. I spoke to Nate." Murmurs flew through the crowd, people both agreeing and disagreeing with her. "I don't care if you believe me or not, but I did talk to him. He told me not to go this way because I have a whole life to live. He said he was sorry and wished he never did it, but it was too late. He wanted me to live my life out for him, and I'm sure he wants all of you to do so too." Mitchie pauses, looking at every single person. "We shouldn't be mourning his death, we should be celebrating his life. He brought all of us together and he was an amazing person. I don't mean we should throw a party because he's…gone, but we should share memories we had with him, keeping him alive in our hearts. He may not physically be here, but I know he's watching over us." Mitchie smiles and looks up, presumably to me. Honestly, I don't know where I am. I can't tell my viewpoint, but I appreciate her gesture. Mitchie nods to everyone as she sits back down, my aunt taking her place.

Mitchie smiles at Shane and he smiles back.

"Well done," he whispers, leaning in towards her as my aunt keeps talking.

"I know that's what he would have wanted. You believe me, right?" she asks, slightly worried that she sounded like a crazy person up there.

"Definitely. If there's one person Nate would talk to, it would be you. I'm glad he gave you closure and you shared it with the rest of us."

Mitchie leans her head on his shoulder. "We all needed closure, they had to know why he did it and that he regrets it. As I learned, suicide is not the way to go. It doesn't help anything, it just causes more pain."

Exactly my words, Mitchie. Great minds think alike.

"You know, this is the one thing I'm glad you didn't succeed in," Shane mumbles in her hair.

"Me too, Shane. I just wish Nate didn't succeed either." They both look down solemnly.

Oh, how I wish that too. But you can't cry over spilled milk, it will get you nowhere. Just learn from your mistakes and teach others. I smile (without lips?) as I see Mitchie learn from this whole ordeal. Maybe I didn't die in vain. Though I could have avoided it, I didn't, but now everyone has learned a valuable lesson. Pay attention to behaviors of others, and help them even if they don't want it. Trust me, in the back of their minds, they want it so bad, but they don't show it. Though I would prefer to be on earth with my loved ones, I'm content now in watching over them, making sure no harm comes their way.

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**And there it is. I hope you liked the advise at the end. It didn't seem right without it. I loved it when I said doctorly. I just think it sounds funny, although it's a sad story.**

**So here's a book recommendation. If you like my story, you should totally read Th1rteen R3asons Why (or just Thirteen Reasons Why, I think with the numbers makes it look cooler.) Just so you know, I'm not being payed to advertise or something, lol. But really, this book is awesome. The style is kinda like mine but a billion times better. That's one way it's so good, it's simple and the character's thoughts cut straight to the chase. Also, I found the author, Jay Asher, goes off on tangents, just like me. Not that it's a bad thing. I finished this book within 24 hours of getting it, which I think is quite amazing considering it's almost 300 pages and it was during a school day. It was just that good. The amazing thing is one of the reviews struck me. Can you guess why? Here it is: _"Readers of Jay Asher's debut novel for teens, Thirteen Reasons why should be forewarned- never has a page turner been so difficult to read. This may sound like a criticism, but in fact it's a compliment, for this story of a suicide's aftermath, and Asher's ability to convey the anguish of someone who was left behind is truly remarkable."_When I read it (because I read everything in the book, from front to back), I was like "Whoa, that's my story title!" The book is basically the aftermath of a suicide, but the girl who killed herself has a unique way of telling the thirteen reasons why she did it. It's mostly her narration, also a boy who was one of the reasons. This totally reminded me of my stories of the series, How to Save a Life, Fades to Black, and this. I'm sorry this was so long, but I had to. This book has too much in common with my story for me not to tell you. Another amazing thing is this is Jay Asher's first book. He thanked his wife for believing in him that he would sell a book when he almost gave up in doubt. All I have to say is I can only hope to be as successful at writing as him and he's crazy for doubting his abilities. Unfortunately, I don't have the book anymore, but my memories are great! Also, Jay Asher has a brother named Nate! What a coincidence!**

**Whew! That was a long thing up there. But now this story is over. Just rememeber, suicide is not the answer. As I said many times before in the story, it doesn't help anything and, as disrespectful as it sounds, it's actually an act of selfishness because you are only thinking about yourself, not how it will affect other people. There is always a better way than to resort to suicide. So, right there, I just summed up what these 5 chapters have been about. Gotta love writing. ;)**

**Oh! I almost forgot the whole reason I was so keen on updating today, a school night. Happy birthday, Miley Cyrus! 17, wooo! Same age as Taylor Lautner. ;) It's not her birthday anymore where I am, but maybe it is where you are. School was so funny today when I mentioned it. I got a lot of disgusted faces. What do you think of Miley?**

**Please review! Come on, it's your last chance!**


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